Revolution
by JiNgLeBeLls912
Summary: America has finally given in and is being taken over by the government. You leave everything you've ever known and loved to fight for the freedom that has been snatched away. Will it ever be the same again?


"Alfred... I can't stay here anymore," you spoke seriously to the American that had a death grip on your wrist. His familiar light hearted blue eyes were staring intensely into yours, you couldn't make out what he was thinking.

"(Name), I can protect you! If you leave then-" you cut him off, "Then what?! You shouldn't have to protect me in the first place!" you ripped your hands free. Alfred was quiet, your words stung like a slap in the face and a blow to the ego. He had worked for over a century to keep his crumbling life together, he had done a pretty good job at keeping the problems concealed. But as time went on things happened, the government became more in control, forcing Alfred to do some serious dirty work that went against his morals. Money was tight which added to the stress and strain to the relationship.

Alfred sighed and fell back into his old worn down leather chair, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes in frustration. Losing you was the last thing he wanted. You had been there by his side through it all, not once complaining about him keeping secrets and coming home late or disappearing without an explanation. Sometimes, when the burden became too much for him in the middle of the night you would coo encouraging words into his ear and wipe his tears. Those moments kept him from going corrupt; you were the light in the darkness. He wanted to be angry with you, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. You had every right to want to leave.

"Why?" the blonde's words weakly made it past his lips, his eyes not meeting your own (e/c) ones. You were caught off guard by the Americans response, your hand absent mindedly reached out to touch his golden locks.

"I'm tired of the secrets. I can't live like this," your hand touched his cheek, "This isn't easy for me. I never intended on leaving you, but I can't just sit here and watch."

Alfred grabbed your hand, "I can still take care of you (Name). I promise you I won't let anything happen to you."

You pursed your lips and let your hand fall to your side, "Something bad is going to happen soon. You obviously can't chose between me or the government so I'm making the choice for you." Wiping a tear from your cheek you grabbed your worn down backpack and headed towards the door.

Your hand hit the knob when Alfred spoke up, "Where will you go? What exactly are you planning to do?"

"I don 't know yet. I'm thinking of heading up to the North West. There's a group up there related to the Tea Party, but more low key."

Alfred's blood froze, his heart dropped to his stomach and he began to feel a little woozy. "Y-You're going to join the Tea Party? Do you know how dangerous that is? The government will throw you in jail! Maybe even execute you."

You gripped the door knob harder not facing the pleading man. "I don't expect you to agree with me, but this is the right thing. Obviously something you can't remember anymore." With a hard yank you busted open the door and stormed out of the house leaving the shocked American behind. The sound of your boots crunching the ice was the only sound in the tightly compacted neighborhood. All the windows were closed and blinds drawn. There was a neighborhood curfew, no one was allowed to leave their homes after nine. The penalty was a ticket and a house monitor.

_Is it really worth leaving? What chance do I have, I'm just one person. I don't even know what I'm doing. _

You were tempted to turn back and go back into the warm embrace of Alfred. To go back to mending his wounds and pushing him along. To go back to safety. You hated that word, you had lived in safety for too long. Always feeling helpless to do anything worth fighting for and letting someone else take care of all the problems.

You reached into your jean pocket and pulled out a worn picture of you and Alfred when you were younger. The edges were folded, the middle was chafed from being creased so much. It was at a 4th of July barbeque, coincidently it was also Alfred's birthday. The two of you were engaging in a family piggyback race when your mother had taken the photo. Those were the times where ignorance was bliss. Once Alfred was relocated to D.C you had made the decision to move with him. Then everything went down hill from there.

_Look at where safety has gotten us. _

Folding the brittle paper back up you stuffed it into your pocket and began heading towards the exit of the neighborhood. You dodged in between a couple of houses. There were two guards protecting the exit, you knew it would be useless trying to negotiate. You hunched down into the snow and began to waddle along the chained fence looking for an opening that you knew was there from some of the teenage rebels who would sneak out sometimes. Doing what you didn't know. There probably wasn't anything to do since the city pretty much shut down after nine.

"Dammit, where is that opening?" your fingers were beginning to go numb from digging into the foot high snow. Finally you found the broken links and peeled back the wires. Once wiggling your way through you were home free. You began to make your way down the ominous streets, taking turns until you saw the familiar diner sign. The place where it all began.

You checked to make sure the coast was clear before slipping into the shadows of the alley way and heading towards the back of the diner. There, a door was poorly lit by a flickering orange light.

_Calm down (Name).. These people seemed serious._

Hesitantly you knocked on the metal door, some of the rust coming off onto your knuckles. You waited for several seconds, shifting from side to side nervously hoping someone would open the door soon. You were about to turn back when a raspy voice echoed from the other side.

"Who is it?"

You let out a breath of relief, "I'm that girl from the other day. (Name)."

"Is anyone else with you?"

"No." After answering you heard several locks being turned. Finally the door opened and an unruly looking older man stood scowling at you. You noticed he was wearing a white apron with several red splotches.

"What is your business here?"

You swallowed hard and averted your eyes away from the blood stains, trying to focus on something else, but everything about him was scary to look at. "U-Um, I was wondering about rebellion." You choked on the last word, not liking how it tasted on your tongue.

The old man raised a bushy eyebrow, "Well that's new. 'Rebellion'."

"Jeff stop scaring the poor girl! She came to help," a short lady flung a rag at the burly man. Pushing the butcher out of the way, she took your hand led you into the dark room.

"Don't let him fool you. He just likes to feel important," she flashed you a toothy smile her skin wrinkling slightly around her red mouth. "I'm Martha. I'm so glad you decided to come!"

You stepped inside the dimly lit room. You began wondering if this was such a good idea after all.

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry I haven't been writing anything at all. This just kind of crossed my mind so I decided to give it a go. It's something like The Walking Dead meets modern day circumstances. Anyways I hope you enjoy it, and hopefully I will be updating and doing more soon! I do not own Hetalia. This story is purely made up and from my imagination. **


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